Heart of a Lion
by Nerderro076
Summary: What if Draco Malfoy was sorted into Gryffindor? The story of how the Harry Potter series would go if Harry not only had Ron and Hermione backing him, but Draco Malfoy. A story of acceptance, redemption, and still lots and lots of Draco drama. *Eventual Drarry, but all pairings happen much later in the story*
1. The Sorting Ceremony-Year 1

Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his new school robes and glanced nervously at the ratty old hat that was now being on placed on the head of one "MacDougal, Morag." He barely heard what the boy had been sorted into as he turned over dozens of different scenarios in his head. He imagined what the sorting hat might say once it was placed upon his head. It would surely proclaim that Harry wasn't good enough for any of the houses, or that he simply was not meant to be at Hogwarts. Good things normally did not end well for Harry, so why would this be any different?.

Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts to see the awful Malfoy boy he had met on the train swagger up to the stool. Malfoy carried with him more confidence than Harry thought he would ever feel. He couldn't help but notice the similarities between Malfoy's behavior and that of his cousin's.

The hat took quite a great deal of time atop Malfoy's head, earning him more than a few confused and suspicious looks from his peers. The boy had started to fidget nervously on the stool before the hat screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Gasps of surprise and shock emitted from the Great Hall, and McGonagall herself looked a bit disturbed as she pulled the hat off the blond boy's head. Malfoy himself looked horrified, and he opened his mouth to say something before closing it several times. He strongly reminded Harry of a fish out of water. After what felt like ages, polite applause finally erupted from the Gryffindor table. Malfoy slowly walked there, his down in shame.

Harry glanced over at Malfoy's two nasty-looking friends, both already seated at the Slytherin table, and they were glaring at their "friend" in disgust. He also noticed Hogwart's students murmuring and gossiping to one another, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little pity for Malfoy. He knew what it was like to be an outsider.

Harry quickly forgot about the Malfoy boy as the names drew closer and closer to his, and before he knew it, the name "Potter, Harry!" was being called out.

The whole room fell silent, but the buzz of confused and excited whispers about "the Harry Potter" quickly filled the silence. The mood felt a bit how it was when Malfoy was sorted. All eyes were on Harry as he nervously made his way to where McGonagall was waiting, the Sorting Hat in hand. Harry took one last deep breath as the hat slid over his eyes.

"Lets see," the hat said in Harry's ear, making him jump. "You're a tough one, Mr. Potter. Tonight is full of those, I suppose! You have much potential for growth in Slytherin,"

With the mention of Slytherin, Harry couldn't help but cringe. He remembered the mean faces he saw from their table, and how quick Malfoy's Slytherin friends were to turn on him. The hat seemed to noticed this as it said, "You don't seem too much in favor of Slytherin, do you? You can been great there, you know. For you Mr. Potter, I'd say GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as thunderous applause broke out from the Gryffindor table, and he quickly made his way there. With all the cheers and congratulations he received, Harry felt a bit flustered as he sat down next to the still shocked Malfoy boy. Malfoy still seemed to be in a state of shock, for he was chewing on his lip quite aggressively, and his fist were curled into tight balls. Harry, not one for confrontation, simply turned away from the blond and continued to watch the sorting.

For the rest of the night, Harry forgot about Malfoy. He cheered loudly when Ron was sorted, and ate as much as he could as the feast appeared. He listened excitedly and attentively as Dumbledore made his speech, and was filled to the brim with treacle tart as he followed Percy to the dorm. This had been the best day of Harry's life, and he went to bed very contented in his new bed.

-

This is the worst day of my life Draco thought as he tossed and turned in his new scarlet bedding. He caught a gleam of gold in his eye and felt like he might hurl. This must be all some huge mistake. How could a Malfoy be sorted into Gryffindor?

Draco still remembered his mother's stories of her disowned cousin Sirius, and he remembered how his father showed him the burn mark on the tapestry where his name used to be. Draco had decided that day that his name was to never be burned off the tapestry. Now here he was, in bloody Gryffindor.

The only solace Draco had from his predicament was the letter he had written his parents immediately after arriving at Gryffindor Tower. He had tried his hardest to explain to his parents that he was mistakenly placed in Gryffindor. He hoped his father would be able to persuade Dumbledore into fixing this mess and place Draco into his proper house. If Draco had to spend his whole seven years at Hogwarts in Gryffindor house, he didn't know what he would do with himself.

It must have been the stress of the day, or the sound of rain starting to fall around Hogwarts grounds, for Draco finally fell into a restless sleep after long ours of brooding.

The following morning, Draco could barley look at the food placed in front of him as he anxiously waited for his mail to arrive. After what felt like an eternity, Draco's owl Bubo finally arrived with a reply from his parents. The first was from Lucius, and Draco felt extremely nervous as he opened the wax seal.

Draco-

We were shocked to hear the news of your sorting last night. Of course there is nothing I can do to persuade Dumbledore to change this mistake, but I have already sent my owl to see if there is any way. Know that I am severely disappointed in this and hope to see better things from you soon.

Draco felt a lump start to form in his throat as he crumpled up the letter and shoved it in his pocket. He continued to remind himself that there was still a chance that this would all be fixed soon. He felt a surge of jealously as he looked where all his childhood friends sat at the Slytherin table, happily laughing together as they opened packages from their parents. To distract himself, Draco turned to what Bubo had delivered him from his mother. In it was a small bag of sweets, which did mildly lift his spirits, and a note in Narcissa Malfoy's familiar scrawl.

Draco-

Don't feel bad about your recent sorting. I know you will still manage to do great things, no matter what house you are in. Just know that your father and I love you.

Love, Mum.

He smiled at the letter, and carefully tucked it away, unlike the haphazard way the had handled his father's letter. He started to fiddle with the package of sweets when he caught Weasley looking at him with a look that was both confused and disgusted.

"What Weasley," he sneered, "Mummy and Daddy couldn't afford anything for you? Or, maybe there were too many of you and they just didn't care enough."

With that Weasley's cheeks flushed red and he quickly stood from seat, despite nervous side glances from Potter.

"You know what Malfoy? Nobody wants you here." Weasley spat venomously.

Draco rose up and matched his angry glare. "Oh yeah, Weasley?" He challenged.

The soon to be fight was broken up with Professor McGonagall handing the two first years their schedules, giving them both very pointed looks. She then turned to Draco and said, "Mr. Malfoy, if I could just have a private word with you?"

Weasley looked ever so triumphant as Draco begrudgingly followed his head of house out of the Great Hall, and it took all of Draco's willpower to not flip the redhead the bird.

Professor McGonagall led Draco to a quaint office near Gryffindor Tower, where she offered him tea. She waited until he was properly fed up, and to be honest filled with nerves, before she explained to him why he was there.

"Now Mr. Malfoy," she began. "It has come to my attention that you and your family have been requesting for you to be removed from Gryffindor house."

"Yes, you see Professor-"

"Mr. Malfoy," she continued, ignoring what Draco was trying to say. "I'm sorry to inform you that once the Sorting Hat has sorted you that is a final decision. It was created to place every student in the house it seemed best fit for their growth. For you, that house was Gryffindor."

"But Professor!"

"Never in all my years of teaching have I seen a student who did not benefit from their placement in Gryffindor house, and I believe you to be no different. No matter what you want to accomplish in life, your house placement cannot do much to change that. I'm pleased to have you in my house, and you will stay here."

"There must be some way!"

"That decision is final . You may excuse yourself."

"You don't understand, I-"

"I think I understand well enough, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco opened his mouth to argue again, but refrained upon seeing the look on her face. Instead he rose from his seat angrily stomped out of her office, taking great pleasure in slamming the door as loud as he could.

This whole school is a joke. Draco thought as he sulked down the corridor. How can there be no one here who can fix this mess?

His eyes brimmed with tears as he stopped to think what his father would think once he heard this news, and he could just picture his name being burned of the family tapestry. He once again thought what he had told the Sorting Hat before he was sorted. I will not disappoint my family.


	2. Friendship-Year 1

Chapter Text

"He never talks to anyone," Harry thought, staring at Draco Malfoy in the corner of the common room, hunched over his Transfiguration textbook.

Ron looked up from the homework he was attempting to do. "Who?"

"Malfoy."

Ron scoffed. "Of course not, he thinks he's better than all of us." He grabbed a handful of the box of Bertie Bott's they had been sharing and shoved all the jelly beans in his mouth. "The wondrous heir to the Malfoy Fortune."

"It's just weird, I think."

"Not our problem mate." Ron said as he stretched out of his seat, clearly bored of homework. "Hey, look here Harry! It says we've got flying lessons on Thursday!"

"I still don't see why on Earth we need to know how to fly." Draco heard Hermione Granger say to Neville Longbottom as they walked to their first flying lesson. He internally rolled his eyes at the dark-skinned girl. For such a smart girl, she was quite thick. Why on earth would they not learn flying?

Draco had quickly decided that he didn't like the girl very much, but to be fair, he didn't like most of the people in his year. She was always beating his scores and one-upping him in class. Also, she was a muggle-born, and Draco knew enough from his parents about muggle-borns to stay away from her.

He remembered what his father used to say. "Mudbloods and blood traitors. You've always got to stay away from mudbloods and blood traitors." Well, from what Draco had experienced so far, he couldn't help but agree with his father.

A loud, high-pitched laugh, more like a cackle, pulled Draco up out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see his friend Pansy laughing at something his friend Greg had just said. Well, Draco thought, they were my friends.

All the kids Draco had grown up with, like Pansy and Greg but also Blaise and Vincent never talked to him anymore, and it bothered him more than he'd like to admit. After the sorting ceremony, they all pretended like they didn't know him. Draco thought it was completely ridiculous. He was still the same Draco, even if he was sorted into Gryffindor.

He heard them bragging about their flying skills and smiled to himself. If Draco was anything, he was definitely a much better flyer than any of them.

Harry felt happier than he was when Hagrid had told him he was a wizard. Flying was the greatest thing he had ever done, and he never wanted to return to the ground.

After the whole fiasco with Neville and his broken arm, all the kids got a turn to try to fly on their broomstick. A lot of the kids had fallen onto the ground at first, and even some had crashed into trees. Still, a lot more kids, mostly the purebloods, had flown into the air, and the more experienced had even made circles and loop-the-loops in the air. Harry had been sure that he was going to be one of the tree-crashers that made everyone snigger.

He had never really been that good at anything, he was always just adequate. In school he was never allowed to try to get good marks in class, because if he did, the Dursleys would accuse him of cheating or something as absurd as copying off Dudley. He was never picked for sports teams, and if he was, nobody would ever pass the ball to him. There was even that one time that he had joined the school choir for credit. Now that had been a disaster. But flying, flying was adifferent thing entirely. The minute he had kicked off the ground, Harry had felt so in control, so in his element, that the rest of the world just fell away around him.

Harry had continued to fly like this for quite a while, and as he got more and more confident in himself he started to try more tricks and risky moves.

"Oi Harry!" a voice said behind him, pulling him away from whatever flip he was about to attempt. "Come check this out."

Harry followed Ron to where many kids were crowded around Seamus Finnigan proudly holding up what seemed to be a tiny, golden ball.

"Wow Seamus, where'd you get that?" Hannah Abbott asked, the awe clear in her voice.

"Nicked it from Wood's stuff while he wasn't looking." Seamus answered proudly, holding it higher so more could see.

"I don't get it." Harry whispered to Ron. "What is it?"

Ron wasn't always the best teacher, but he tried his best to explain to Harry what a snitch was.

A game of "Catch the Snitch" started between the students and Ron was clearly itching to play. Still, he accommodated his friend and answered all Harry's questions. Harry was transfixed watching his classmates play, delighted by the strange little ball darting away when someone tried to grab it. Before Ron could even finish talking, Harry sped off to join in. Ron sighed in exasperation before quickly joining his friends, eager to show off the skills his twin brothers had taught him that summer.

Harry played harder than any of the students, and was significantly better at catching the snitch than any of his counterparts. He was very resourceful, and found countless ways to trick the snitch and his competitors into leading him to victory. As he did one particularly nasty move that almost knocked Terry Boot off his broom he heard someone whisper, "He should've been in Slytherin!"

Eventually most of the kids got tired of watching Harry win, and eventually it was just him and Draco Malfoy battling for the snitch. Both very aggressive and determined players, the game soon got very competitive. Almost everyone stopped to watch the two talented fliers fight to reach the snitch. They held their breath when Draco's hands graced the golden orb, and collectively groaned when it was right behind Harry and he missed it. The game seemed to go on forever until Harry spotted the snitch somewhere close to the ground. He dove for it, moving much faster than someone on their first time on a broom ought to. Even Draco, who had matched Harry's speed at first, slowed down as the ground came closer and closer to their faces. Harry hadn't even realize what Draco was doing, he was too laser-focused on the snitch, and was moving faster and faster towards the ground. As he finally caught up to the snitch he seemed to suddenly realize how close he was to hitting the ground and panic finally took over him. Somehow he manage to jerk his broom handle up, though he was so close to the ground he would feel the tips of the grass skim his face. He slowly flew back to Draco's height, amazed that he had pulled it off. Too full of adrenaline, he just held the snitch above his head triumphantly and grinned like a madman. He heard applause and cheers of approval below him, and even Draco gave him a small smile and said, "Nice flying Potter."

Harry was so distracted by everything that had just happened when he landed safely on the ground that he didn't even notice both Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall glowering at him.

"Never in my life," Hooch began, "Have I ever seen such dangerous flying. From a first year!"

McGonagall gazed sternly at him under her glasses. "What on Earth were you thinking Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned deep red and began to stammer out an apology. His head of house just held up her hand to silence him and said, "Come with me."

He obediently followed her, tail between his legs. He had time to see Ron mouth "Good luck mate" before a firm hand directed his shoulder towards the direction of the castle.

-  
"Youngest seeker in a century! I don't believe it!" Draco heard Ron Weasley yell, in fact the whole common room could hear him, he was yelling very loudly.

Draco quickly returned to his potions essay and surprised himself when he realized that he wasn't even jealous that Potter had snagged the seeker position before he could tryout. He was a damn good flyer and deserved the spot. Besides, the role of a seeker never really appealed to Draco. It seemed too boring for his taste. Draco knew he was going to make the Quidditch team eventually, because his father would always brag to anyone who would listen how good his son was at the sport. Of course, that was when his father thought he would make the Slytherin team. Draco wondered if he even would be proud at all if his son made the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Hey," he heard Potter say to Weasley. He hadn't meant to be eavesdropping, but the pair was sitting right next to him and it was quite difficult not to get distracted by their conversations. "Do you know what the unicorn hair does in Forgetfulness potion?"

"I think it makes it stronger."

The dark-haired boy chewed on his quill, like he was thinking about it. Draco laughed at the thought. As if Potter thought!

"Yeah, that must be it." he had decided, and turned to his essay to write it in.

Draco scoffed and before he could stop himself said, "It's to regulate the temperature genius, the aconite is what makes it stronger."

Potter looked at Draco in surprise, but upon realizing that Draco was right he scratched out his answer and wrote it in. "Thanks." he said.

Not but five minutes had past when Potter got stuck on his essay once again. "Hey," he asked Draco this time, "Do you know what the dragon's blood does for the potion?"

Draco rolled his eyes but answered, "It allows the potion to last longer."

The third time Potter opened his mouth to ask a question Draco just sighed and took the parchment from the boy's hands. "Just give it to me."

He easily filled in the bits that Potter was missing, and even corrected the parts he had gotten alarmingly wrong in the other parts of the essay before he handed it back.

"I really don't think you should be allowed to brew this potion." he said, not at all sarcastically. He actually feared what might happen if someone allowed Potter behind a cauldron.

The other boy just laughed and said, "Probably shouldn't."

"In fact, you probably shouldn't be allowed to do anything, given the fact that you almost broke your neck on your broom today."

"Hey, you're just jealous that I caught the snitch and you didn't."

"I don't mind losing to the youngest seeker in the century."

"Yeah, so about that-"

Soon they were having a full conversation about Quidditch, Draco was very pleased that he knew so much more about the sport than the other boy. Weasley, seemingly jealous that Draco was the one to tell Potter all this, kept adding "helpful" remarks in. Soon they were all laughing at something completely oblivious Potter had said, and Draco made a startling realization. Maybe not all Gryffindors were so bad.


End file.
